Rebuilding the Kingdom
by Lynalia Bourbont
Summary: A continuation of the "Sabriel" story from where Garth Nix left off. Sabriel and Touchstone hit a few bumps in the road. Quite basicly it's the reconstruction of the Old Kingdom, the Great Charters, and love between the King and Abhorsen.
1. Abhorsen Wakes

Disclaimer: I don't own Sabriel, Touchstone, Mogget, Kerrigor, Sulyn, the Clayr, or the places mentioned in this story. None of the characters or concepts (for the most part) belong to me. They all belong to the creative genius of Garth Nix. I am simply continuing the story of "Sabriel" where he left off. I wish I owned these places, but anyone and everyone who has read his books knows that I don't. But don't let that stop you from reading!   
  
And another Note: Anyone who has any inkling as to how the bells are remade, or made in general, can you send me an email or put that in a review for me? The information would be greatly appreciated!  
  
Now- on to the story!  
  
Distant shouting pulled Sabriel out of the deepest sleep she'd had in weeks. Groaning, she tried to roll over, but found that she couldn't move. The gauze bandages wrapped about her torso were thick and tight, making it quite difficult to shift her position. Perhaps that was to keep her stomach held together and her innards inside, as the sword had pierced straight through her body and pinned her to the floor of the school.  
  
The school. Oh, so many people had died to help her. There were too many deaths for her to count, but she had felt them all. Death was here too, in the hospital. Human death in Ancelstierre, faint enough but noticeable to her attuned senses. To guess, she'd say they were in Bain, or even the infirmary at the Perimeter. The noise that had awakened her wasn't distant any longer; it seemed to be right outside of her door. A deep male voice, two soft feminine ones, and a high, scratchy male tone.  
  
"I'm not leaving her here. I don't care what you say; I don't trust you people. I'd rather take her home to the Old Kingdom; let our Healers take care of her. But noooo, that isn't allowed here. At least let me in to see her!" That was Touchstone, always trying to protect her. Sabriel smiled, thinking about him.  
  
"You're not allowed in her room. She's still in critical condition, and she hasn't awoken yet. When Miss Sabriel is stable you will be permitted to see her. Until then, you need to go back to your room sir," a woman said with authority.  
  
"Tell her who I am!" Touchstone bellowed, his insane anger beginning to take hold.  
  
"This is King Touchstone of the Old Kingdom, and the young lady in that room is the Abhorsen Sabriel. I think that you should let us in to see her, unless of course you'd like to feel his wrath. Which, let me tell you, is not something you wish to mess with." Sulyn's voice was very calm, her tone strong and determined.  
  
"But the doctor's orders were to-"   
  
"Let them in to see her Mary," the doctor interrupted. Sabriel closed her eyes as the metal door to her room swung open and shut, the voices moving down the hallway and out of earshot. Popping open one eye, she looked across the room and saw her two friends standing there watching her. Sulyn was holding a rather large sack. The pair walked across the sterile white tile floor, he hobbling on crutches and she limping slightly, favoring her right ankle. Yawning, she opened both eyes and stifled a giggle at the stupidity of the entire situation. He looked over at her, forcing himself to complete the last meter to her bed. Grunting he collapsed on the side of her mattress and grabbed her hand.  
  
"Sabriel," he gasped.  
  
"Touchstone," she murmured. "Oh, my crazed, foolish Touchstone." She cradled his curly head in her hands, a smile spreading across her face. "How's your leg?"  
  
"My leg? Fine, fine. It's in some odd sort of mud or plaster. I can't really feel it, now that you mention it. But how are you?" he asked, looking at her face with concern.  
  
"I can hardly move I'm wrapped up so tight. A strong healing spell would do the trick for the both of us, if we could only leave. I want to go home. I'll be fine once I can feel the Charter again," she said. Turning her attention to her old schoolmate, she added, "What did you bring in that misshapen bag of yours Sulyn?"  
  
"Just a few necessary things of yours, and one not so essential," she said, placing the bundle on the chair next to the bed and opening it. A white blur hopped out and curled into a tiny ball of fur on the pillow.  
  
"Mogget," she said, reaching up to stroke his fur. Sulyn opened the bag further, showing the bandolier of bells and Abhorsen's sword. "Oh, Su, thank you so much. Really, that means a lot to me. Where is Ker-, er, the black one?" she asked, nodding towards the sleeping cat.  
  
"Sleeping in the basement of the school, in a small cage locked with Charter spells."  
  
"Good. I'll be back to retrieve him as soon as I'm able to leave. I, I'm so sorry about Ellimere, the Magistrix, all of the girls. I never meant for them to die."  
  
"It wasn't your fault Sabriel. We did what we had to," she responded, both of their eyes welling up with tears.  
  
"I'm still sorry. My first daughter will bear her name, I swear." Sulyn nodded, a grim smile on her lips. She glanced down at her wristwatch.  
  
"I hate to come and go so quickly, but those girls cannot be left to the clean-up and repairs for long without a supervisor. It's good to see you awake though," she said, touching Sabriel's arm softly and turning to leave. As the door swung shut after her exit, Touchstone propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at Sabriel's pale face.  
  
"What?" she asked, jarred by the look in his eyes.  
  
"You're just so beautiful, even with those cuts and bruises. I could kiss you right now, only I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"Oh, I think we could manage something," she whispered, reaching down to pull his body further up the bed. When he was as close as the bandages and tiny bed would allow, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly, fully, with all of the emotion he was feeling. And she kissed him back, grinning and laughing against his mouth. A little white paw interrupted their next kiss, leaving each with a small scratch on their cheeks.  
  
"What was that for?" Touchstone asked, glaring at the cat.  
  
"No kissing in front of me. You don't have permission to do that, and until we get out of this Charter-forsaken place, you two are going to remain civil, if I have any say in the matter," Mogget remarked smugly, settling himself back on the pillow.  
  
"You don't!" they both said, glaring at him. But he was already sleeping again, lured into slumber by Ranna that bound him. Touchstone yawned and got comfortable next to Sabriel on the bed.  
  
"You don't intend to sleep here, do you?" she asked him, yawning herself.   
  
"Why not? Sounds like a good idea to me," he muttered, already drifting off. Groaning, she let her head find a spot on his chest and gave herself over to the power of the bell. 


	2. Coming Home

A/N: Thanks to my reviewer, and yes, I will try to keep this story as updated as I can, although you'll have to forgive me for my writer's block sometimes. ;-) But seriously- I still need a bit of help on the creation/recreation of the bells. I have some sort of idea how it's done, courtesy of the final pages of "Sabriel". I just want to be fairly certain that I've got this right, because I hate to make it sound stupid or out of character of the book, so to speak.  
  
The Perimeter was just as abnormal as ever when the seemingly insignificant duo appeared there. It was a month after Kerrigor had wreaked his havoc upon the Old Kingdom and those forty miles of Ancelstierre closest to the Wall, and this area had recovered remarkably fast after the damage. Only three weeks ago Sabriel had rebound the Dead of this area, using the wind flutes her father had created nearly twenty years before. The grief was still fresh in her heart, but she kept herself busy and refused to dwell on the fact that he was gone. She had a job to do now, and Abhorsen, rather, her father, would want her to look to the tasks in front of her instead of looking into the past where events could not be changed. Sighing, Sabriel nodded to Touchstone and began to pull their handmade wagon down towards the dugout, waiting for Lieutenant Jorbert to notice their arrival.   
  
"Ah, Miss Abhorsen and the, uh, King. The Bain sheriff telephoned about your wish to return across the Wall. Won't you come in for a minute for some tea?" he asked, sticking his hand out to them and putting it back by his side when neither one offered to shake it. Touchstone shook his head firmly.  
  
"No, we'd like to be getting on our way now, if you don't mind. Been too long on this side as it is." He transferred his weight on the crutches and his left leg, the right still trapped in the cast from the hospital. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of that place; he hadn't liked it at all and was happy to be heading home. Where ever home was nowadays.  
  
"Very well then, let me see to your passports," the officer said, extending his hand and this time receiving two handmade papers in it. Nodding, he turned and walked towards a small building set back from the dugouts. "I'll be just a moment," he called over his shoulder.  
  
"Creep," Touchstone muttered at the little man's back.  
  
"He isn't yet used to us, or even this outfit. It's not his fault he was raised in the South where they don't believe in our magic," she said softly, smiling and nodding at the salutes they were getting from the healthy Scouts who'd made it out of the battle with their lives.  
  
"Still, I don't like him. Bad vibes I guess, but I'd feel a lot better if it was Colonel Horyse here. I wonder how his family is coping." Sabriel didn't respond, and he uttered an apology under his breath. Before she could reply to that, Jorbert returned with their passports and a small crossing party was forming at the arched entrance in the Wall.  
  
"Everything is in order, if you'll just follow me you can cross." Touchstone began to walk behind him; his pace still slow although he'd mastered the crutches two weeks earlier. Sabriel brought up the rear with the cart, and was surprised to find two soldiers helping her.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Oh, you're mighty welcome, Abhorsen," one of them said, winking at her. "You've done so much for us here, the least we can do is carry some of your load."  
  
They stopped at the Wall, letting the Scouts and Lieutenant Jorbert go through first, checking for Dead Spirits or Free Magic beings. Touchstone hardly waited for their whistle to begin making his way through what was once the gate. Sabriel started forward alone, pausing for a moment to look back upon Ancelstierre. 'Goodbye,' she whispered, turning to enter her homeland. This was the last time she would leave Ancelstierre as a citizen. The Charter marks on the Wall moved rapidly, as they had for Touchstone, welcoming her back to the place she belonged. Home, a voice in her head said. Yes, I'm coming home. Home to stay.   
  
There was still a good amount of snow by the Wall, even though winter here had ended shortly after the rebinding of the Dead. Sabriel would have preferred to ski, but in her still tender condition and Touchstone's lack of mobility, they were forced to walk. She didn't fancy traveling too near to Cloven Crest, as the run in with Thralk and the Mordicant was still fairly fresh in her memory. Not to mention that being near the broken stone would drain both of them of much needed energy. So they stuck to the Old North Road, following it for a day and a half before coming to the Long Cliffs. When she advanced on the cliff, her hands ran over the bandolier she wore across her chest. It was curiously light, as two of her bells were missing, two of the most used and most important bells a necromancer could have. Kibeth the Walker and Saraneth the Binder. Broken by Kerrigor in her attempt to bind him to her will; vanished by his Free Magic cry. Shaking her head to clear it of those thoughts, she undid the strap that held Mosrael in place. Her fingers stilled the clapper in the bell and she turned to Touchstone.  
  
"Are you ready?" she asked him, feeling the pack heavy on her back and seeing his bulge over his head. It was a shame their wagon wouldn't fit through the tunnel. He nodded to her. Mogget lay curled about her shoulders for the ride. Grinning suddenly, she took a deep breath and rang the bell, hearing Mosrael's harsh voice ring through the hills. She flinched as the cat's sharp claws dug into her shoulders, laughing as he was startled awake from his nap.  
  
"Was that necessary?" he hissed.  
  
"If you want to go home and have fish, it was, yes." The little cat shook his head, trying to force the echo of the bell from his ears. The miniature Ranna on his collar sounded clear and sweet, lulling him back into a sedated state. The hills grew silent once again as the reverberation of Mosrael's chime stopped. A wooden door slowly appeared, and Sabriel grasped the ring and pushed, the door swinging into the cliff. She heard Touchstone's gasp of amazement, and wondered if he hadn't seen something like that before, what with living in the palace in Belisaere. Her spirits high, Sabriel stepped through the opening in the cliff, greeted by the sending in the black surcoat. It bowed to her first, then to Touchstone as he entered.   
  
"Please seal the door behind us as soon as we are gone," she instructed, nodding back to it. Mogget growled softly and the sending glared at the white cat. She laughed, walking past the sending and on to her father's, no, her house. The tunnel didn't seem as long this time, and the Charter marks along the walls were for light only. The waterfall boomed loud as they passed the second sending. Sabriel descended to the bridge across the raging river. The waters of the Ratterlin were high and swift, but the stepping-stones were clear.   
  
"Get ready to jump!" she called over her shoulder to Touchstone, who was eyeing the river uncertainly. Steadying herself and the pack on her back, she crouched and leapt to the first stone, then the second. Mogget yowled and dove into her bundle when spray from the waterfall hit him. She jumped to about halfway across and looked behind her, pleased to see that Touchstone was following, if unhappily and a bit unsteadily on his one good leg. Eager now to get to the house, she pushed the gate open and bounded up the path to the door with a new burst of energy. Beaming, she dropped the pack in the entryway and ran to the main hall, the sendings gathering there to greet her, almost.  
  
"Hello, hello, hello! The Abhorsen is back, and she wants a bath and dinner for herself and her companions. Oh, and fish for the cat, please," she called, her face flushed with excitement. The whole lot of them bowed to her, and she bowed right back as they scattered about to do their mistress's bidding. Touchstone came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"It's amazing Sabriel. Beautiful." She spun around and hugged him tight.  
  
"Oh, it really is, isn't it? How'd you make it with your leg? I completely forgot about your condition!" she said, worry in her voice.  
  
"I'm alright. Wet, and soggy now, but we can cast a healing spell and get rid of this cumbersome thing," he responded, motioning at his bum leg.   
  
"Of course we will. Shall we do it now, or do you want your bath first? Let's get rid of this before your bath, so you can clean your leg as well. I'm a bit sore myself. Cast one for me?"  
  
"Definitely. Where do we go?"  
  
"My room. But be forewarned, it smells of sulfur when you have your bath. And don't expect to soak in the tub, the sendings frown on that." Kissing the top of his crown of brown curls, Sabriel skipped towards the stairs, humming a tune. Touchstone smiled and started after her. Her good spirits made him happy. So long as she was content, he was too. If she was near him, he was happy, and that was all that mattered. And she loved him, maybe not as much as he did her, but it was there, and that was enough. She was enough. 


	3. Darkness Returns

A/N: I am very sorry for not updating recently. But there were holidays and writer's block and friend's birthdays that all happened to be occurring at the same time... so that left me no time, or inspiration, to write with. But I'm working again, so hopefully I can keep rolling. Ah, reviews, reviews, reviews! Thank you all so much for not flaming me, considering that I'm still a novice at this. Sure, I've been reading fan fics ever since I was introduced to them almost a year ago.... But we all know that isn't the same. But!   
Ok- Cali Vianya: I absolutely forgot about Kerrigor! He he- oops! Thanks for reminding me, and I included a bit about that damnable creature in here just for you. ;-) I guess I'm gonna have to fly solo on the bells, but it will be included- just because that's kind of vital to the story- if you ask me. And I am the author...so whatever I say goes. Whooo! I love this kind of power!!!! Squay! Really now, I ought to start writing, because by the time I get around to posting this it may be late, unless I type as fast as my little fingers and brain can go......(which, let me warn you, is fast on the former but slow on the latter).  
  
The two humans had been so joyous to return to a place they knew, something of familiarity, some place free of the Dead. So exuberant, in fact, that their baggage had been dropped at the door without any thought what-so-ever. The sendings were quick to place the gear in the proper bedrooms, unpacking it, as was their purpose. A small, metal cage-like box, Charter marks scuttling across its surface and Free Magic reeking out of the air holes, was brought into the workshop. There, a few sendings used some tools to tear it open, thus releasing a little black cat, black with the most evil, flame red eyes one would ever see. The critter leapt from its ruined hold and strode from the room, sniffing the air experimentally and laughing crudely under its breath. The laugh came out sounding more like a hiss than had been intended, and it wailed, scenting the air once more and taking off to seek revenge on the creator of those smells.  
  
Laughter floated down the main stair from Abhorsen's bedroom. Sweet female tones, soft and musical, and deep, booming male ones, mixing together to produce a most harmonized sound. Sabriel lay on her bed, face flushed, while Touchstone sat on a bench beneath the window, head thrown back in the abandon that comes with true amusement. She smiled over at him, and he felt his heart jump to his throat. She's beautiful, he thought. He looked at her entire body, drinking in the radiance that emitted from her.  
She sensed his eyes on her and blushed an embarrassed pink. For all of their worldly involvement, all of the adult responsibilities, they were still childlike in their quest for the love they both wanted. She knew that he loved her; he had said so before they faced Kerrigor, but she was afraid to show her affection for him. What if he didn't feel the same way she did? What if his feelings didn't run as deep and as pure as her own? She didn't want to lose the only companion she had left in her life, not now when she needed someone by her side the most. After everything she'd just been through, she couldn't bear to be alone with just the sendings and Mogget. Alone with just her thoughts, her misgivings, her guilt. It would be too much, it was already too much, but having Touchstone here eased the burden on her shoulders, made her feel more human and free. Smiling softly, she broke the silence that had settled between them.  
"I think that we should take our baths now. Dinner should be ready shortly."  
"Is there, a, um, room I can use?" he asked, slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation now.  
"Oh, I have two bathrooms in here. You can use the one over near the garden stairs," she replied, pointing in the direction he was to go. "You'll find everything you need, and probably more, in the cupboards. Just ring the bell if you want a sending to help you. Does your leg feel much better now?"  
"Yes, a great deal improved. Thank you. What about clean clothes?"  
"There will be some there, courtesy of the sendings. They seem to have a sense for these sorts of things. If you need me just holler, I'll be in the other bath, hopefully soaking away the dirt and grime from Ancelstierre." She hopped up and started to yank off her boots on the way to the washroom.  
"Hopefully?" he asked, but she was already gone. Groaning, he rose and began disrobing as he walked. He soon learned what she meant.  
  
Sabriel grinned when she heard his yelp of surprise. The sendings had surely dumped the water over his head and were scrubbing him down even as she thought of it. She giggled, remembering her own first experience here. At least, the first that she clearly remembered. No use worrying herself over the past now, it couldn't be changed no matter how greatly she wished it or tried. Sighing, she leaned back in her tub and slid beneath the water, scrubbing at her hair with the soap. I'll never be clean again, I swear, she thought, washing herself vigorously. When the water grew tepid, she climbed out and wrapped herself in a soft towel, patting her body dry. Peeking out, she checked to make certain her room was man and cat free. Satisfied, she ran lightly in and leapt onto the bed, where a clean surcoat was set out for her. A dark black background, silver keys covering it. She ran her fingers over the fabric, smiling gently. Pulling it on over her soft undergarments, she slipped into soft cottony breeches. After all, she needed to be modest; there was a man in the house. She stepped into a pair of supple leather boots and headed towards the door and stairs. The gong for dinner sounded just as she walked into the hall, where she was met by a grumbling Touchstone. Nodding to the sendings, she took her seat across from him and cleared her throat. "Sabriel. I didn't hear you come in," he startled. "It's quite alright, really. Let's just eat now. I'm famished!" He smiled weakly as the first course was brought in. Back to those damn subservient ways again, I see, she thought to herself. "Don't do that. Just be normal, for Pete's sake! I'm not some great person to bow down to and serve meekly. You're a king, dammit! Stop acting like a court jester or my 'sworn swordsman'. I'm sick of it. Act like a man again, take charge, don't play the lackey!" "I, what?" he said, flabbergasted. "Just be yourself Touchstone. Be the king that you are." With that, she turned her attention to the fish on her plate. She heard Mogget snicker from his stool at her right and shot him a glare. "Don't you start too, or you'll regret it." Most of the meal passed in silence. Touchstone didn't know what he'd done to offend her, but he was going to make amends, fix everything. He reached over and took her hand in his. Startled, she looked up at him. "Sabriel, I want to apologize," he started, pausing to take a deep breath. In the moment he took to breathe, there was a great commotion outside of the hall. The doors burst open and a small black figure stood in the entrance. Mogget's fur bristled and the hair on Sabriel and Touchstone's necks stood at attention. The shape, which oddly resembled a cat, began to cackle, a maniacal laugh that sounded half growl, half hiss. Sabriel stiffened as she saw a red strip across the neck of the creature. "Kerrigor," she whispered, eyes wide with a new fear. It laughed again, and seemed to grow larger, or was that a trick her eyes played on her? "How observant. I wondered when you would remember me," it called, sounding arrogant and almost human. "Hello little brother. Surprised to see me? I thought as much." "What is that doing out of its cage?" Touchstone muttered, the paranoia creeping into his voice. "I did not carry that thing across the Wall and the river in that metal box just to have it set free again." "I, I don't know," she whispered, her hand trembling beneath his. She didn't have all of the bells, Saraneth was missing, Saraneth the Binder. "Charter help me, what am I going to do?" "Nothing, Abhorsen," it spat. "Nothing at all. Now it's my turn. Time to play." It roared with laughter, the sounds echoing through the space. "Oh no. No, not again." Sabriel looked at Touchstone, and their eyes locked. What are we going to do? she asked him with her eyes. I don't know darling, I don't know. Trembling, they looked back at the being. It was waiting for them.  
  
A/N: Ok, so that took a really long time to update, but even longer to write! Want to know what happens next? Send me reviews and I'll let you know! 


	4. A Hole in the North Cellar

A/N: Yeah, I'm just writing the next days... haven't even checked for reviews yet. In my haste to get the next chapter up I found many mistakes. Shame on me. I will edit, or at least resolve to edit. I'm not guaranteeing anything, as we all know promises are hard to keep sometimes. So how'd you like that last chapter? Hehehe, that's what I thought. I just hope I can follow up with something just as good here. Hopefully better, considering I wasn't too pleased with how things flowed. But enough of my bashing- on to the fic!  
And if you people would like to see the next chapter...well then you need to start reviewing. Because if I don't get at least two reviews per chappy, things will not be progressing as planned. Hehehe- I know I'm blackmailing you into this, but you've got to admit, it's nice getting reviews and knowing that you're loved!!!!! So love me!!! :-P  
  
Sabriel's breath was coming in shallow gasps, her heart pounding much too quickly in her chest. Not again, she thought to herself. No more deaths, no more loss, no more pain. Please, please, please no. Touchstone's face was twisted, his mouth twitching as he stared at the creature that had once been his brother and closest friend. Rogir, he thought, hands reaching for the swords that lay on his bed upstairs. They were supposed to be safe here, in Abhorsen's house. He was seething inside and out, but he was also frightened. Sabriel didn't have all of the bells, how could she rebind him?  
  
"Touchstone," she whispered, her voice shaking.  
"Yes?" he responded through clenched teeth.  
"He's still bound, but there is an immense amount of free will in that thing, along with Free Magic that will take years to quench. I think that if we just put him back into his box, or put more Charter spells on him, maybe... maybe."  
"Or you could just ring Ranna and put him back to sleep, Abhorsen," Mogget said, quietly licking his chops as he finished his fish. "It would be, by far, the easiest way to get him to cooperate. Really, you are the most ignorant Abhorsen to date."  
"Ranna," she said thoughtfully, almost rubbing her chin in contemplation. "But my bells are upstairs. I can't possibly get by him, retrieve the bells, then come back to find the two of you clawed to death and eaten."  
"Oh, he wouldn't eat me again. He'd just eat the fool," said Mogget smugly. "King, the king," he added after a cold glare from the two of them.  
Before any of them could act, Kerrigor included, the sendings walked into the room carrying the second course, as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. Grinning suddenly, Touchstone grabbed one by the arm and whispered something into its ear. Moments later it came back carrying a large black pot, almost like a kettle. It glided across the floor and upended the tub onto the cat's head. It hissed and lashed out with a black paw at the sending's leg, but all it hit was the air as the sending moved out of the way and dropped the now empty pot over the drenched animal. It yowled, but Touchstone was up and moving before the sending had even left the room. He placed a foot atop it and smiled over at Sabriel.  
"Well, at least we know he's good for something."  
"Be quiet cat."  
They sat in silence for a few moments, taking it all in. Sabriel deliberated on what to do with Kerrigor. Turning to the stool next to her, she began to ask Mogget a question, but found him curled into a tiny little ball of fur, purring softly as he slept. She groaned and poked at him.  
"Wake up you dope," she growled. Yawning, he stared at her with contempt in his green eyes.  
"What?" he snapped. "I was having a rather nice nap." Sabriel snorted.  
"Can you tell me if there's anywhere in the house that the sendings don't go unless bidden? Or that we can Charter spell to keep something in, no matter how badly it wants out?"  
"There is the cellar, north or south, take your pick. Or you could lock it in a wall, in between the stones. Or just throw it down the well...no better not. Or-".  
"Thank you, that's more than enough. Go back to sleep," she said, scratching his throat and ringing the tiny Ranna that hung from his collar.  
  
"What do you think?" she asked Touchstone.  
"Cellar sounds like a good idea to me." He motioned her over and lifted the pot slowly. She bent down and caught the soaking wet black cat into her arms, Ranna ringing as she lifted him. Walking out of the hall, they passed the parlor and descended the North cellar stairs. Touchstone went down as deep as was possible, then grabbed a shovel from a small closet at the bottom of the stairwell and began to dig. The floor around them was solid dirt, and looked like it had been some sort of a storeroom used by the first few Abhorsens. He dug about six feet or so deep before he turned to her and extended his arms for the cat.  
"Do you know how to make a Netlid?"  
"Umm, I think so. What exactly is it?"  
"A cover, almost like a lid. It keeps what's inside in, and allows things from the outside to be let within. In other words, this," he said, nodding to the cat, "stays in the hole, but the sendings can bring him food and water and those necessities."  
"Ahh. Yes, I think I saw one of those in the Book of the Dead once. But you'll have to pull the Master marks, I don't remember them very well." She paused, glancing at the sleeping evil in his arms. "Will it work?"  
"It should. Besides, what other choices do we have?"  
She nodded grimly, moving to stand beside him at the rim of the hole. She placed her hand on his arm and immediately felt the Charter magic flowing through him. The four Master marks were clearly outlined in his head, and he sent them down his arm and into hers, letting her know which ones they were.  
"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and he leaned over and dropped the cat into the hole. As soon as the cat had left his arms he began to pull the marks from his mind, the power flowing from him stronger than any Sabriel could hope to conjure. As the cat howled, he threw the marks from his fingers at the hole, and it glowed with a brilliant white light. Distantly, she could hear curses being spat, by Kerrigor no doubt. Looking back at the hole as the light dulled itself, she saw a shimmering net covering the opening, Charter marks scurrying across it with vibrant life.  
"It worked!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Touchstone. Startled, he stepped back and caught her in his embrace, spinning her body around in the air. "It worked, it worked, it worked!!!"  
"Yes, yes it did," he choked out, pulling her back and looking at her face. She looked back at him, beads of sweat and a few stray curls on his brow. He looked just like a little boy up to mischief. Smiling broadly, she pulled his head closer to hers and let her lips find his. It was a short kiss, but a sweet one regardless. Touchstone responded suddenly, and his tongue was just about to roam past his lips and towards hers when she broke away. Her face was flushed red, her pupils dilated from the darkness and a passion inside of her that was beginning to surface.  
"We ought to go finish dinner now," he said, clearing his throat of the lump that had settled there.  
"I'm not very hungry," she murmured, watching his face for a reaction but finding none.  
"Neither am I."  
  
A/N: Yeah I know, kind of short, but I'm leaving for Cape Cod on Monday and I want to get a bunch up before then. My writer's block is letting up, knock on wood, so I should be able to get one or two chapters up by then, at the least. And, as always, REVIEW!!!!! 


	5. Angry Tears and Heartfelt Cries

A/N: Squay!!!! I got reviews, I got reviews, I got reviews!!! ::does happy dance:: So, are ya ready for some lemon? I've given you some fluff, and as they all say, lemon and fluff make great lemon meringue pie! ; -) I'm not sure I want to put too much lemon, because Touchstone's, well, you'll see. : D  
  
The two of them walked back up the stairs in silence, each content with their own thoughts. It seemed to take longer going up than it had going down, and the steps felt steeper to their feet. Sabriel reached out and grabbed Touchstone's hand, her cold fingers squeezing his warm and sweaty ones in a fierce grip. They smiled at each other, continuing their climb without a shared word. The open door to the foyer loomed ahead, bits of broken light falling on the staircase to mingle with the Charter made illumination on the walls. As they firmly shut the door behind them, Sabriel glanced at his face, hoping to see some unchecked emotion there. Nothing. She cursed softly, turned, and strode out into the orchard. What in the Nine Precincts was wrong with him? Storming through the trees, she let out an exasperated scream, punching the air with clenched fists. How could he be so blind to all the signals she was giving him? She was doing just what Ellimere and Sulyn and she had witnessed the older girls doing when they were younger, just what they had practiced with each other, bursting into fits of uncontrollable giggles at the absurdity of it all. The thought of them alone brought tears to her eyes. Sniffling, she sank down onto the mossy grass at the base of one of the apple trees. Nothing was working out the way she had planned it back at school. Her friends were dead, her father lost to the beckon of the Ninth Gate. And while she should have been off to the college or the university, she was here, in the Old Kingdom, the Abhorsen, fighting the Dead, or un-Dead, however you saw it. She hadn't asked for this damn job, she wasn't even certain that she wanted it. Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker? She groaned, frustrated at the fact that no matter how much or how little she wished for this to be happening, it was. Fate had chosen her to be the next Abhorsen, and the next Abhorsen she would be.  
But Touchstone. He puzzled her beyond all belief. She was turning on all of her womanly charm, her wit, charisma. Why wasn't he responding to her? Was she not pretty enough to suite his tastes? It wasn't as if she could help the way she looked, it wasn't her fault if she was ugly! What was it that was making him so distant all of a sudden? What had made him so cold when she had kissed him? It seemed, now that the rush of everything was finally over, now that they were back at home, momentarily safe from all of the evils plaguing the Kingdom, that he wasn't certain how to act around her. But it wasn't like she knew how to behave with him, what to say, what to do or not do, how she should touch him, if she should touch him... the list went on forever! Well, if he wasn't going to act like anything had changed, then neither would she. They could just go on pretending that they were just traveling through the kingdom, that they didn't have responsibilities now to their people. Fine! If he wasn't going to acknowledge the chemistry between them, then she wouldn't either!  
  
Touchstone stood alone in the hallway, dumbfounded by her manner. What had he done to get her in such a mood? When they kissed? He was trying to maintain his honor here, or what little he had left. He couldn't just go around kissing girls and fooling around with them and wooing them every single opportunity. He was King; he had a reputation to uphold! He knew that she loved him, at least a little bit. And she knew that he loved her back, more than he could ever hope to put into words. What did she expect from him?! He wasn't used to the way she was acting around him; girls had never been like this around him before. Women didn't throw themselves at men one minute, then become sweet, innocent and chaste the next. It simply didn't work that way! At least, it hadn't two hundred years ago.  
How was he supposed to court Sabriel, the proper way for a man and a woman to become acquainted with each other, if they had completely different ideas about how it was to be gone about? It wasn't as if he could just ask her father's permission to court her, that would be just a little bit difficult. How was he supposed to go about asking for her hand in marriage if there was no one to ask? This wasn't as easy as she may think. Sure, he wanted more in their relationship, what man didn't? But it was improper for him to take advantage of her, to let her do things now that would ruin her reputation as Abhorsen in the years to come. If he was correct in his thinking, the ways of the Kingdom couldn't have changed all that much. It was common respect and courtesy, after all.  
Yet, with all of his old fashioned ways of thought and action, Touchstone enjoyed this side of her personality. She was so wild, free, open. Not like the girls he had been with before, all stuffy and "By your leave". He liked the way she just did things on an impulse, not waiting for anyone's approval. It made him love her more because he knew that she would always keep him guessing, that they would never get stuck in a rut because of her spontaneity. And maybe, just maybe, he could ask her to marry him without her father's permission. It wasn't as if her father was here to ask, and if he was Touchstone was almost positive that the answer would be yes. The marriage would be hard, that was a certainty, but they could overcome that. As long as they had love for each other they could triumph over anything.  
  
Dusk was beginning to settle over Abhorsen's House, the white of the walls a sharp contrast to the dark river below. The birds were chirping as they prepared for bed, and in the house a similar occurrence was taking place. This one, however, was devoid of any noise. The tension between the two people was thicker than frozen butter, and showed no signs of being resolved. Sabriel stood at her bureau smashing her hairbrush down onto the lacquered top, muttering to herself. Touchstone sat on the edge of his bed, quietly considering all of his options before acting. Growling to himself, Mogget strolled into Abhorsen's bedroom and jumped lazily onto the bed, where he sat and began to clean himself.  
"Get off my bed cat, or I'll throw you off!" Sabriel snarled at him.  
"Just tell him that you love him already. This is really an unhealthy environment to be living in for me you know. The two of you fighting and not talking to each other, I may not get dinner if you two don't resolve this!"  
"Oh please, you don't need food to sustain yourself. And I refuse to talk to him until he apologizes."  
"What am I meant to be sorry for?" Touchstone asked, standing in the doorway wearing a loose tunic and leggings.  
"If you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you!" she exclaimed, glaring at him for listening to her conversation with the cat.  
"Actually, I don't know. I have no idea why you're so angry with me, or what I possibly could have done to provoke such a reaction from you. Was it when we kissed? Did I not say something or do something that you were hoping I would?" he inquired, building up steam. "Because it isn't easy for me, being in love with you. I don't know how I should act, what I should say or not say. Your mood changes more often than the weather lately, and I can't handle it! I love you Sabriel, and I don't know how to...how to show that to you, how to prove it."  
"Oh Touchstone," she whispered, beginning to walk towards him, but he held up a hand to stop her.  
"It's not that I don't know what to do, because I do, in a manner of speaking. It's very simple really. All I need to do is ask you to marry me, but I want it to be perfect. And then there's the problem of not being able to ask your father for your hand. Do I just ask you, or is there someone else that I go through? Because I'm the king now, and if this whole damn thing isn't just right the people go berserk. Sure, I know that married life with you won't be easy, you being the Abhorsen and all. But I don't mind that one bit. I don't mind that you sunburn easily or that you tend to snap at me when you don't understand or that you get mad when I act differently than you want me to. Even with all of that, I love you. I don't want to love anyone else, or for you to love someone else. I want to be your husband, I want you to be the mother of my children, I want you to be my Queen!"  
He took a deep breath and looked at her. Sabriel stood there by the side of her bed, wearing naught but a nightdress, her heart reeling. He wanted to marry her, to have children with her? She never thought...  
"You mean that you didn't dislike my kissing you in the cellar? That you don't think I'm too forward or, or that I'm ugly?"  
"Oh Sabriel, you are the farthest thing from ugly. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever known. And about your kissing me or even being forward, well, I don't mind it one bit."  
"Really?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.  
"Honestly and truly."  
She started to cry then, and he came over and pulled her into his arms. He slid his fingers into her hair and held her close against him. She cried for happiness that he loved her just as much, that he wanted to marry her. She cried for her father, for Ellimere, Magistrix Greenwood, Colonel Horyse, the innocent soldiers and schoolgirls. She cried because she was the perhaps the only one left who still could.  
  
A/N: Okay, okay, so no lemon. But I just kinda thought that I'd make them wait. Make it seem more classic, and much more romantic when the actual lemon finally makes it into print and out of my head!!!! But I hope you enjoyed, because I am leaving for the Cape...oh tomorrow morning and I will be gone for three days. Will hopefully be updating then! Love you all! 


	6. Improper Proposals

A/N: I'm baack! I apologize for not writing over vacation, but there just wasn't anytime, as the weather was great and I had shopping to do! ; ) But I'm home and writing again, even though I'm a little bit sick from running on the beach when it was chilly out in just a tank top and shorts. I knew I should have listened to Mommy... On to the fic!  
  
Oh, about a review I received. Wild Blood Rose- I might add in Ellimere and Sameth, or I might stop the fic with them finding out that she's pregnant...not certain yet. I'm kind of just letting the fic flow where it wants to go for right now. But I'm also trying to make it fit exactly in what Nix had previously set up. It does say in Lirael that Ellimere was born before Touchstone's reign officially began, three months before to be exact. So I probably will end up putting in their births, and that means that they'll need to be getting married shortly, if everything will fall into place the way I want it to. But I just wanted to clarify there.  
F.Y.I. There is some mention of, shall we call it, sexual thoughts and some "checking". Just letting ya know.  
  
A new day was dawning in the Old Kingdom, but the King and Abhorsen had yet to retire to their respectful beds. Daylight poured in through the eastern windows, illuminating the dying embers of the fire and two human forms, wrapped together in a blanket on the wooden floor. The duo were enfolded in each other's arms, their faces intimately close. Smiling at her, Touchstone nipped Sabriel's nose and covered her mouth for another long, drawn out kiss. As they separated, she sighed and rested her head on his chest, hugging his form closer. They had spent the entire night awake together, alternately kissing, caressing and talking. They had discussed the state of the kingdom, the lengths they would have to go to rebuild it to its original glory, and their relationship. Mostly they kissed, quickly bypassing the awkward state that normally befalls most couples when they let their relationships go further.  
"Are you still so sure that you want to wait until we're married?" Sabriel asked, glancing up at his face. He growled and squeezed her, making her cry out softly.  
"Yes, but I can tell you're determined to make it as difficult as possible for me," he whispered huskily, running his fingers through her hair, letting the strands fall idly through.  
"Whatever you say dear," she murmured, snuggling closer to him and nodding off within moments. He held her lithe body against his muscular one and drifted off into the first peaceful sleep he'd had in two hundred years.  
  
It was nearly noon when Sabriel awoke, bed sheets tangled about her legs and pillows askew. She didn't remember going to bed...then sat upright as she recalled lying in Touchstone's arms in front of the fireplace. They hadn't done anything, had they? Cringing and almost smiling at the thought, she reached down and felt for the protective membrane that should be there, relaxing some when she found it intact. Thank the Charter she hadn't done anything stupid. The night and its events were coming back to her now. She rubbed at her eyes and untwined herself from the sheets, padding barefooted to her water pitcher and bowl, where she washed her face and rid the caked sleep from her eyes.  
Donning in a simple housedress, she ambled down the stairs to the kitchen to snitch a croissant for breakfast. She peeked into Touchstone's room on the way but didn't find him in there. Sighing softly, she sunk her teeth into the soft, doughy goodness of the almost-pastry and slipped out the door leading to the kitchen garden, moseying along to Alliel's fountain, where she found Touchstone perched and munching on an apple from the orchard.  
"Good morning," she said cheerily.  
"'Morning," he said around a mouthful of Macintosh. Swallowing, he added, "How'd you sleep?"  
"Surprisingly well, considering I didn't make it into my bed until past dawn. And yourself?" she asked with a grin.  
"Better than I have in a very long time." Finishing off his apple, he threw the core off into the grass and patted his lap. She plopped down and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grunted in reaction, sliding his hands about her waist and nuzzling her neck.  
"Touchstone?"  
"Hmm?"  
"I don't want to wait to get married." He looked up at her, shock written all over his face.  
"What do you mean?"  
"That I want to get married now. I don't want to wait until you're officially King and the palace is rebuilt. That could take months, years even. I can't just hang on by a little thread while the women of Belisaere win your heart and seduce you into their beds. Just so they can be Queen."  
"I, well, if that's what you really want. I haven't even properly proposed and we really don't know each other as well as we should..."  
"It's what I want, more than anything in the world. And we have the rest of our lives to get to know each other."  
"Then married we shall be. But on one condition." She looked at him inquisitively. "That we have the ceremony in Belisaere, our first act as King and Queen."  
"Agreed!"  
She grabbed his hand and shook it, grinning wildly.  
"Of course, I'll need to get you a ring, so those Dead don't start asking for your hand before you bind them."  
Laughing from deep inside, Touchstone beamed at her. She cuffed the side of his head lightly in retaliation, only to fall into a fit of giggles as he tickled her. Feigning seriousness, she jumped up and walked up the path towards the house. But even as she neared the door he could hear her singsong voice.  
"I'm getting married, I'm getting married!"  
  
A/N: I know, it was short, but I'm still tired and it's about 90 degrees here, more humid than Hell, and I have no air conditioning. So I hope you all understand. :D 


	7. The Workshop

A/N: These next few chapters are going to take tons of planning, so I won't be able to update as often as I'd like to. :'( Everything is going to happen fairly quickly, because I'm just sick and tired of fooling around with this story. We need action!!! Adventure, danger, and just a little romance to tie everything together. : D So prepare yourselves for a wild ride! (Hopefully!)  
  
Sabriel was tucked away in a study chair as dusk settled on the Old Kingdom. In her lap lay a thick, leather bound book, its pages yellowed with age. She poured over the text in earnest, searching for the information she needed. This was the last in a stack of fifteen, the only ones in the collection that even mentioned necromancy and the creation of the bells. So far all that she had found was worthless prattle about the dangers of the bells once they were formed. Nothing on which Charter marks to infuse into the bells and handles that would mix with the Free Magic required to fashion the bells themselves. That was what she really needed to find. Astarael needed to be rigorously cleaned, as debris from the fight with Kerrigor still clogged its interior, holding the clapper in place and keeping it from ringing true. Of course, she needed to completely remake Kibeth and Saraneth, as those had been shattered and turned to dust. She still trembled at the memory of that encounter.  
  
Turning the final page, she dropped the book onto the table next to her with an exasperated sigh. She hadn't found anything! They couldn't possibly go to Belisaere and reclaim the palace grounds without all of her bells in the bandolier. Sure, there were a few other sets around the house, but she still needed to re-craft the two bells that had been lost so this group would be complete if she ever needed it. That, and they had been her father's bells. She wanted to keep them with her, so a part of him would always be near her heart. Groaning at the pain in her legs from sitting for so long, she pulled herself up by the arms of the chair. Dinner ought to be ready soon, and she thought to head down, but a nagging feeling made her stop and turn around. Looking directly at the desk, her gaze fell on the Book of the Dead. It was glowing with this strange, greenish light, almost begging her to open it.  
She quickly undid the clasp and pulled open the cover, letting the pages fall where they would. The heavy parchment moved rapidly, pages turning as if a strong wind whipped them along. When they were finally still, Sabriel looked down at the words scrawled there. Bless the Charter! Three, no, four, no, five! whole pages of detailed instructions on the cleaning and crafting of the bells of a necromancer! She squealed like a little piglet, grabbed the book and her bandolier and flew down the stairs to the workshop. Glancing quickly at the metals she would need, Sabriel yanked the cupboards open and searched for the box marked "Silvers" that should be on one of these shelves, somewhere...there! She grabbed it and reached inside, searching for the sizes she would need. For Kibeth, a piece roughly the size of her fist and for Saraneth, one about the mass of a small jar. She moved quickly now, searching out and finding the molds that each and every Abhorsen before her had used to fashion their own bells, humming softly to herself as she went about preparing everything. A sending came in and started a blazing fire and melted the silver in two separate pots, pouring the molten metal into the molds and squeezing them shut, as the red hotness of the cast didn't burn their Charter made hands. Sabriel had discovered some handles made specifically for the bells and fastened them to the newly crafted bells, letting the sending smooth the seam. While the bells had been setting, she had read and reread the section in the Book of the Dead that detailed the process, memorizing the steps, Master marks, and Free Magic words that needed to be placed into the bells for them to ring true in Death. For if they did not ring true, the Dead would not be bound; and these were her two most used bells, so it must be perfect. The sending motioned to her that the bells were ready, and she meditated for a moment, clearing her mind of everything but the task at hand. Exhaling slowly, she went over to the table where the two bells waited. Drawing the five Master Charter marks into her head, she made them strong and let them flow down her arm and linger in her fingertips. Inhaling sharply, she touched her hand to the bell that would be Kibeth, whispering the acidic Free Magic spells that went along with the marks. She felt the bell tremble beneath her fingers and she pushed more power into the bell, forcing it to accept the magic she had placed into it. As Kibeth absorbed the enchantments, Sabriel formed the bell's Charter mark in her mind, the mark for walking and movement and motion, letting it build in her subconscious until it nearly blinded her then covered the bell with her hand and let it flow. There was a loud, surreal humming, and she screamed as the bell grew hot and blisters appeared on her palm. In the moment before she let go she named the bell. "Kibeth!" she cried, yanking her hand away as the bell sounded for a split second, then silenced. The sending placed her steaming hand in a bucket of cold water, soothing the burns for the time being. Her hands would need to be wrapped and salved later on, but this must be finished first. She moved now to the bell that would become Saraneth. Readying herself, she brought the Master marks into her mind and let them glow for a moment before she sent them out and into the bell, uttering the bitter words that accompanied them. The bell trembled, trying to free itself as though it did not want its fate. Grimacing, she called upon the mark for Saraneth, the mark that symbolized strength, and bonding. She threw all of her will into this bell, forcing the metal to succumb to her will just as the bell would the Dead. For this bell was only as strong as the crafter's will, and it must be able to bind even the strongest of the Greater Dead. The bell grew fiery hot, burning her good hand and making her scream with pain. But she did not let go, forcing all of her strength and endurance and determination into the bell, compelling it to accept all the magic she had placed into it. She felt the bell succumb for a moment and knew that if she did not name it now she wouldn't be able to name it at all. "Saraneth!" she yelled, tearing her hand away not a second too soon. The bells completed, she collapsed to the floor, all of her vigor gone. The last coherent thought she had before she fainted was that her father would be proud of her. "Daddy," she whispered, and then faded.  
  
"Are you awake now beautiful?" Sabriel stirred and found herself looking up at Touchstone's concerned face. She moaned and put a bandaged hand to her forehead. "The bells..." she said, her thoughts jumping to the ceremony she had performed. "Safely polished and in your bandolier. I wish you had told me what you were doing; I would have lent you my strength. You're not recovered enough to be performing energy draining tasks like that." "It had to be done. I'm the Abhorsen, I can't go to Belisaere without a complete bandolier, especially if we're going to reclaim that palace of yours, your majesty." He grinned at her, brushing a strand of black hair from her forehead. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Miss Abhorsen. You're far too much work for me. How am I supposed to go about running and restoring a kingdom when I've got to worry about you all of the time?" he asked, gazing into her eyes. The crease between his eyebrows told her he was serious. "I'm the Abhorsen, I can't die. At least not yet. There's no Abhorsen-in-Waiting to take my place dear-heart. So rest assured that until we have children of our own who are old enough to take my place, I won't be leaving you for the Ninth Gate." "You damn well better not leave me. Where else am I going to find a Queen like you?" She smiled and he brushed her cheek with a kiss. "Get some rest, you're going to need it, and all of your energy, soon enough."  
She nodded, watching him leave her room. He was such a caring man. I don't know what I'd do without him, she thought, then drifted off into a dreamless, exhaustion- induced sleep. 


	8. An Uncertain Future

A/N: I'm sooooooo sorry for taking forever to update. I didn't mean to take so long, I just thought I'd put it down for a week or so and then come back to it. Only, school started back up again, and then there was boy trouble and friend trouble and lit mag trouble, so it was save the day and all of my dudes from my best friend's wrath.... That and Chemistry Honors is the hardest thing in the world. Trust me, it's lots and lots of work. I'm not liking this chappy at all, but hopefully if I get it up, and it sucks, the next one will be much better. I promise. Just bug me, a lot. And thanks for the compliments on my writing, I really appreciate that. And I don't mean to abandon this, but please don't let me!

Belisaere was absolutely beautiful in the spring. Blooming roses clung to the sides of the houses, the markets bustled with people, the scent of the sea waves filled the air. Gossip flew on the wind from mouth to mouth, moving faster than even the swiftest fish underwater. Word on the street was that the heir to the throne had returned, with the Abhorsen at his side to free the city of the Dead. Some said that the two were married, others that the Abhorsen was only doing her job. Whatever the case may be, it was the overall consensus that the people of the capitol city were happy to have the authority back where it belonged, and to have the authorities back where they belonged.

It had been two weeks since Sabriel had crafted anew her bells, cleaning Astarael with utmost patience the following day. She and the king had set out for Belisaere in the Paperwing three days later, arriving at the city by nightfall. The number of Dead plaguing the city seemed to have dropped considerably since she had been here last, but it was still a large amount. She and Touchstone had stayed out of sight for the majority of their stay at the Sign of Three Lemons. Much of their time had been spent planning how to rid the city of all its unwelcome visitors, to no avail. Anything that they thought of had been tried before and had failed. They were spending yet another day planning, locked up in Sabriel's room due to rain, when the idea hit her.

"I've got it!" she cried, jumping up and nearly knocking over the warm cocoa on the table beside her.

"What? What is this brilliant idea? Is it like the other 'brilliant ideas', the ones that petered out?" Touchstone asked, peering up at her as he stabilized the stand.

"Oh, ye of little faith! This one will work, I'm sure of it," she admonished, glaring as he rolled his eyes in exaggeration. "You know how two thirds of the city is still over-run with the Dead?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he nodded anyway.

"Well, if we can get all of the people down here in the wharf to put bee's wax into their ears at dusk, then I can bind the Dead when they come out at night!"

"What about binding them all? Are you going to just walk up to each and every one of the Dead and ask it to pretty please hold still while you send it all the way to the Ninth Gate?"

"You sound like Mogget. But I have a solution for that little inconvenience too. If we can draw all of the Dead into one place that has really good acoustics, I can use a phonograph to record the sounds of Saraneth and Kibeth ringing, then play it in that one area, the sound will be amplified and then I can bind all of the Dead at once. Two birds with one stone, as they say."

"It sounds foolproof enough, but where would we be able to hold all of the Dead in one place at one time? And where would we find this 'fone-ograph' you're talking about? And," he said, holding up a finger to keep her from interrupting him. "How are we going to get them all to this one specific spot?"

"Well, we might not even need to make a phonograph, so long as the place we gather them in allows the sound of the bells to echo, that should work well enough. And we can draw them all to the Reservoir, because the sound in there is magnified ten times more than anywhere else in the city. And we'll get them there by bait."

"Bait? What are you planning on using as bait?" he bugged, still skeptical of the whole arrangement.

"What do the Dead yearn for more than anything on this entire earth?"

"To not die?"

"Life. All we need are a few daring young people, offer them a place on the Royal Guard once the palace is rebuilt and set in order, have them walk through the city near dark, head down to the Reservoir, then sneak out right before the Dead start to come down, hide somewhere, then I show up with my bells, and Wham! The dead are bound and the city is free!"

"And you expect this to work?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" He shook his head glumly and sighed.

"I guess we don't have much of a choice then. We'll get started first thing tomorrow morning."

Everything was in order, and the plan was ready to be executed. Touchstone was still grumbling about how it could go so wrong, all the flaws in the plan, and did we consider that the Dead might have plans of their own? Sabriel left him to his mumblings and gathered the things she would need for tonight.

Finding a group of people to act as bait had been much easier than she had expected it to be. With the offer of jobs in the Royal Guard and the incentive of having a city free of the lording Dead, dozens of young men and women appeared at the inn to sign up. So now they'd ended up with three groups of people, all ranging in age from eleven to twenty-four, who volunteered to distract the Dead long enough to be bound. In fact, the lot of them was brave enough to suggest going into the water of the Reservoir on the barges. Touchstone was leery of having anyone in the building near the broken stones and the open doorway into Death, but he was, yet again, overruled.

"Do you have any inkling as to the danger you're putting these people in? They could die Sabriel! Or worse, be captured by some Greater Dead trying to come through the open gate into Life, and be turned into Hands or something!"

"Dear, really. I admire your anxiety and fear for your subjects, but your kingly decorum is not needed as of yet. Let me bind the Dead first. Then I'll need you," Sabriel said dogmatically, patting him on the head and swiftly walking out of the room to meet her 'bait'.

"You all realize the risk of this endeavor?" she asked an hour later after briefing her troops. Seeing those young faces staring back at her with pure trust, the jeopardy she was putting them in settled in her mind like the weight of the world on her shoulders. And really, it was the weight of the world; the Old Kingdom's future as a free land lay in her hands now, being entirely up to her to save. What if she failed? But no, she wouldn't, she simply could not, and that was that. They were waiting for her to talk.

"Be ready by an hour before sun down to head up to the Reservoir. Charter bless you," she said, with an informal bow to the group. They filed out of the room quickly, jumping with excitement and jittery with nerves.

"Charter help us all," she whispered as she watched them go.


	9. Painful Finalities

A/N: Yep, I'm really hopping now. You really have a lot of free time on your hands when you get grounded indefinitely. Funny, I never saw it that way. I just wish I could post this as soon as I'm done writing. But I can say this, I have this whole chapter planned out and I'm sure by tomorrow I will have the next one all mapped out too. So never fear - Eternal boredom and perpetual grounding are here! But back to the fic! Love y'all!

Never before had a sunset seemed so beautiful to Sabriel's eyes. Not that she had seen a great deal of sunsets in her short lifetime. Ancelstierre was normally foggy or cloudy or rainy. There were good, sunny days of course, but the sunsets were never so bright and vibrant as this one was, here in Belisaere. The blue of the sky was streaked with brilliant reds and yellows, pinks and oranges and golds, and the thin, wispy white clouds threaded through the colors like the scars on the stomach of a many times mother. Fitting, or so it seemed, that the last sunset she might ever see would be the most stunning. So enthralled by it she was that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until a pair of arms slipped around her waist.

"Striking, isn't it?" Touchstone said, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Yes. Yes, it is." She put her hand on his arm, reassuring herself of his presence, because it wouldn't be there tomorrow. They stood in silence for a while, watching until the last of the pink faded from the indigo that the sky had now become.

"What are you thinking about?"

"My father," she whispered, so softly that it was barely audible. But he heard her.

"He'd be proud of you Sabriel. This is what he would have wanted you to do, to fulfill your role as Abhorsen, to, to..."he trailed off.

"To save the Kingdom?" she finished for him. "To sacrifice my life to protect a people that I don't even know?"

"They're your people. Yours and mine." He turned her around and tilted her chin upwards, towards his face. "I won't let you fail. I love you Sabriel, Abhorsen of the Old Kingdom, my Queen. Your people trust you; they have faith in you and your motives. You-you are beautiful and smart and talented and ingenious and I love you more than anything I have ever known. I refuse to lose you to Death, or Ancelstierre, or some other heart that can not love you half as much as mine does. You are my own, and I am yours, so don't you dare think about leaving me for the throes of Death."

She stood there, with his hands gripping her arms like a vice, shaking despite the warmth of the late spring night. '_You are my own'_ he had said. My own. Stunned, she blinked back the tears that had somehow formed behind her eyelids.

"I miss him," she sniffed, burying her face in her hands as his hold slackened. Sighing, he pulled her to his chest, wrapped his arms around her and smoothing her hair, mumbling soft nothings into her black locks as one would do with a baby. And in his embrace like that, Sabriel let the tears flow. Tears she had kept inside since they had arrived here and all of those experiences came rushing, flooding back. She sobbed into his tunic, letting the tears flow freely, letting his arms soothe her, his murmurings calming her fears and worries.

"I just, what if something goes wrong? What if they die, if I die, if the whole city dies because of some mistake I made? I can't live with that knowledge!"

"They won't die. If some do, they will have known that they died for the greater good of the kingdom. The blood will not be on your hands Sabriel. All of those people who volunteered to go with you, to act as bait to the Dead, they know exactly what they're doing. They know that sooner or later, they will die, but they must figure, hey, someone's trying to put the kingdom to rights, that seems like a worthy cause to die for, if I have to. You haven't bribed them into this, as much as it may seem like you have. You're not telling these people to go home and tell their loved ones how much they mean to them because tomorrow will dawn without them! You are Abhorsen; you bind the Dead, for Life is not their path to walk anymore.

"And for you, well. I'm not going to let you die. I don't care what you may want, or what you may think that you want, you are not going past that Ninth Gate. Not now, not while you still have a job to do, a responsibility to yourself, your people, your father, and to me. So get any notions of suicide out of your head, because if you don't, I will."

Despite her attempts to stay gloomy and self centered, she smiled.

"And just how do you intend to get those notions out of my head?"

"Like this," he whispered, sinking down to one knee before her. She knew what he was trying to do, and she loved that he was doing this, but she was shaking. Shaking from fear that this may be the only night they had left, from fear that if he asked her she wouldn't be able to say no, because she wanted to say yes, more than anything in the world. But not like this, not now. Fresh tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She pulled her hand from his and took a step back.

"No, Touchstone. Not here, not now, not like this. You're not going to guilt me into living by breaking my heart. If I come back, then, maybe then you can ask me to be your wife. But not here, not when my world is crashing down around my feet, and all I can see is destruction and pain and death. Things are different now; we can't live happily-ever-after anymore. There is no happy and there is no after. There is just now, and right now I can't give myself to you when I don't have a self to give. So no, I'm sorry, but no." Turning swiftly, she walked away from him, and she didn't look back.


	10. The Reservoir

Sabriel stole quietly up the hill towards the reservoir. Full dark would soon be upon her, and she moved quickly, in the brightest of the light remaining, which in truth wasn't much. Her bandolier was strung across her chest, and she held a bag of beeswax in her hand. Her thoughts kept themselves quiet on the long walk up, not voicing themselves until she stood above the North Stairs leading down to the dark depths of the Reservoir. Suppressing a shiver, she pulled her sword from its sheath and, holding it in front of her, plunged headfirst down the stairs into the darkness.

The stairs were surprisingly deserted, and her footsteps echoed around her. She could hear the water lapping against the marble barriers and the bases of the broken stones, the frightened whispers of the adolescents who waited on the barges below. Someone being sick; the power of the broken stones was strong still. Emerging at the bottom of the flight, Sabriel looked out across the water towards the barges in the middle. Two groups of people, most no older than herself, huddled together as far from the stones as the barges would allow. Holding both sword and bag high above her head, she slipped into the water, wadding as softly as possible out to the closest barge. The ripples she made splashed against the marble and wood, ricocheting throughout the expanse. Hands reached out to help her up, and the frightened murmurings stopped as she gained the barge. The nausea was already gripping her innards, and she felt light-headed, but she fought the symptoms off and put on a confident front.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, sheathing the sword and dropping her bundle.

"Two hours, milady. We have heard stirrings outside, but so far none have entered. We think they are waiting for full dark?"

"Yes, they most likely are. I didn't happen upon any on my way up, but I was careful not to, else they be scared away," she said, bending to retrieve the burlap bag she had brought. "This is beeswax. You are all to put it in your ears and are not to take it out, no matter what may happen. Do you all understand?" They all nodded, and she began passing the bag around, watching as they all pushed some of the substance into their ears. Once both barges had used the bag, she placed it on the edge of the boat, and slid into the middle of the group, concealing herself as best as possible. Now all that was left to do was wait.

They didn't have to wait long. As the last sliver of sunlight slid from view, the reservoir became gloomily dark, the water eerie and murky, as though some great monster lurked in its depths. With the going in of the sun, the Dead came out, in trickles at first, of only a few. But as they sensed the Life in their domain, they poured out of their shadowy hiding places, sliding down the stairs and surrounding the water like a thick, black hoard. Where there had been anxious and excited mutterings on the barges before, now there was only silence - silence and tremors of fear.

Sabriel stood quietly in the middle of the barge closest to the center of the pool, closest to the broken stones. She could feel Death beyond them, just a breath away, the presences lurking just beyond the First Precinct. Daunting as it was, she couldn't back away now. Her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she peered at the sides of the room, trying to gauge the number of Dead here. She couldn't guess their amount, one hundred, two, one thousand? Perhaps she should just wait until the midnight bell sounded in the wharf; she was certain that all of the Dead would be out by then. And they would all follow her into Death.

Hours, it seemed, passed by, and still the numbers of Dead appeared to grow larger by the score. Those assembled, both on the water and out of it, were becoming apprehensive. Just how much longer would Sabriel wait until she acted? That exact thought seemed to be crossing a lot of minds, Sabriel's included. She looked around her, at all of the innocents surrounding her. This would be the last time she endangered the lives of guiltless people. She was getting rid of the Dead, sending them back to Death where they belonged. Once Belisaere was free, her job was done. Then she could leave Touchstone and Mogget and everyone else to live their normal lives, just like they had before all of this had started, before she had changed everything. _But I love him, and he loves me, regardless of the fact that I've just about ruined his kingdom. What will my leaving, for good, forever, do to him? _

_Oh, he'll get on somehow. There are enough women out there who'd give anything to be Queen_.

_But what if-_

Her mental argument with herself was cut off when a flash of white interrupted the darkness of the space. A few people screamed and nearly fell off of the barges when the white object landed on her shoulder, claws sinking in deep, regardless of the armour she was wearing.

"Mogget," she hissed, crouching even lower so the Dead wouldn't see her. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"And to think, I thought you would be happy to see me, not to mention hear my news. But I guess I'll just leave, seeing as I'm not wanted here."

"Mogget, what news?"

"Oh, so now you're interested are you? And what do I get in return?"

"Your life?" Sabriel muttered through clenched teeth. "I don't have time to waste here, just tell me and go."

"Fine then. I'll remember all of that when I'm finally free. No mercy for you."

"Just tell me!"

"I just thought you'd like to know that all of the Dead wandering the city are currently packing the stairwells, and spilling out into the courtyard. They should all be able to hear your bells."

"Oh. Erm, thank you."

"Yeah, you're not welcome," he grumbled, curling himself around her neck and promptly falling asleep.

Sabriel slowly pulled herself upright, releasing a breath she hadn't known she was holding as she stood. _This is it._ Sighing, she placed her hand upon her bandolier, reaching for the largest bell it held. Carefully, she unbuckled the strap restraining it and grabbed the clapper to keep it from sounding even in the slightest. She closed her eyes and held the bell close to her chest, breathing deeply, slowly. In one final instant, she thought of Touchstone.

"I love you," she whispered, then removed her fingers from inside the bell, freeing the clapper. As she let her wrist go, ringing the bell, she heard a great moan from the Dead assembled. But the sound rang true, pure, mournful. Astarael sang, and the Dead followed Sabriel into Death.

A/N: I know, I made you all wait for ages on this chapter. I apologize. I've had part of it written, but it wasn't very easy for me to write. And I left you with a cliffhanger. I'm sorry! Don't spork me! I've been, well, preoccupied. With loads of stuff that I wish I hadn't been, but I can't control my life. But it is holidays now, so maybe, if I buckle down, I can get something written and you won't hate me again.


	11. The Queen's Return

Death was cold. Much colder than Sabriel remembered. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and found that she was lying down, being carried along by the river. There were other beings in the river, only they were flying past her so quickly and swiftly that she barely had a chance to register what they were. The Dead she had just vanquished, sent to the Ninth Gate. Only, they were clawing at her, trying to grab hold of her spirit as it was pulled by the current of the river. Trying to take her with them.

This sudden realization made Sabriel struggle against the current, fighting to get up and regain her balance. She didn't want to die; she had life inside of her veins, somewhere. Somehow she forced herself up, standing and fighting the flow of the icy cold waters of Death. Instinct made her draw the sword sheathed at her hip, and she brought it up in a fighter's stance, defending herself as she looked around her. Death, always grey, surrounded her. She still seemed to be in the First Precinct, but the gate was very close. Grappling with the river and the various, misshapen hands that reached for her, Sabriel began to fight her way back towards Life.

At the border, when she could feel the warmth leaking through from the other side, she turned and looked back. And she would have simply stepped back into Life, back into her body, if she hadn't seen it. A light, down by the First Gate, moving steadily upwards, closer to her. Curiosity overtook caution, and Sabriel stepped back, the heat of Life fading away again. As she watched, she realized it must be a sending of some sort, not Charter made, but Light made. A woman, perhaps, carrying something. But what?

"Abhorsen," it said when it reached her, bowing low.

"Yes, that's me. What is it you need?"

"Give this to Torrigan. He will need it, if he is to rule efficiently. He needs you as well. Love him, the way I loved his father. Reign as I did, as I would have had I been fated to go on. Go my Queen, for your King needs you." The sending handed Sabriel a small bundle, bowed low once again, and drifted back down the river. Shocked, and slightly stunned by what she had just been told to do, Sabriel clutched the package and stepped back into Life.

When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the stares of more than a dozen people and the green eyes of one white cat. Still holding what she had been given in Death, Sabriel sat up, her head light and the faces around her spinning slightly.

"That was stupid Abhorsen. Very stupid indeed, if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you did they?" she snapped at the feline, standing up and smiling at those gathered around her. She motioned to her ears, and then pointed to their ears, nodding when one of the girls pulled the beeswax out of her ear. "Yes, exactly. Can you get the rest of them to do it?"

The girl nodded, and soon all of the beeswax that had filled the ears of those assembled was back in the bag it had come from, and the barges were rowed back to the marble edge of the Reservoir. The group dismounted, rather warily, and Sabriel, sword out, led the way up the stairs and out into the night. She looked around her, but, finding nothing unusual or Dead, escorted her 'bait' back down to the wharf. Instead of sending the lot straight home, she brought them into the Sign of Three Lemons, sat them down, and bought everyone a drink. While they were thus occupied, she slipped upstairs and into Touchstone's room.

Snoring softly despite the fact that he had promised himself he would stay awake, Touchstone sat in the armchair next to the window awaiting Sabriel's return. His head down, chin against his steadily rising and falling chest, he looked so cute, so vulnerable sitting there asleep. Sabriel entered the room cautiously, dropping her load onto his bed and sliding over to his chair as quietly as possible. She eased herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his slumber heavy head onto her shoulder and kissing it lightly. He stirred, and unconsciously wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Sabriel?" he muttered groggily.

"Aye, it's me. I'm home love. I've come back for you, and I'm alive."

"Oh, good. I won't have to take the bar maid as my queen."


	12. Sapphire Nights

Sabriel stretched her arms high above her head and yawned. Loudly. Glancing around the sun swept room, she realized that her bedmate had left; it had to be at least noon. She should probably get up, go and check on the results of her work, but she was enjoying the feeling of lethargy in her bones. She'd been working all week, and hadn't slept much at all in recent nights. _Speaking of nights,_ she thought with a smile, snuggling down into the covers to retain all after effects of her evening.

Once she'd come in and woken him from his impromptu slumber, he'd kissed her senseless. Right there in the armchair, he'd held her in his lap and kissed and kissed and kissed her until she thought that her body had turned to thick, fresh butter. It'd felt like she couldn't move, and really, she couldn't. Her legs had decided they didn't want to work anymore, and her head was spinning so much she was certain she wouldn't be able to stand even if her legs chose to work.

"Touchstone," she murmured into his neck, although how her head had found its way to his shoulder and why she said that she didn't know. She kissed his neck softly, slowly.

"Mmm?"

"I need to go to bed."

She ran her tongue along his jaw line. He shuddered, and she bit his earlobe. _This is nice,_ she thought, running her fingers down his arm. He pulled her closer and lifted her, pulling tight against his chest.

"Bed as in sleep? Or-?"

"Depends on if we can stay awake once we hit the mattress."

"Oh, I can. Had myself a bit of a nap today," he said, winking as he sat her down on the bed.

"Did you now?" Sabriel yawned. She really was tired.

He nodded and began to pull off her boots. Once they were off he moved upwards to her armour, the same she had worn when she first set out to find her father. But she wasn't thinking about that, or what tomorrow would bring, or even about the people downstairs who had risked their lives tonight. All Sabriel was thinking about was the way his curls fell over his eyes as he unbuckled the belt that held her sword at her hip, pulling it away and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. He stood and reached behind her to take off her bandolier and paused.

"What is it?" she said, looking up at him.

He was starring at something just behind her. She craned her neck to see and gasped.

"Oh crud! I can't believe I forgot!" She reached out and pulled the dark canvas bag towards them.

"What's that love?

"It's uh, well," she stumbled over her words, not quite sure how to tell him this. "It's from your mother. She gave it to me, just before I left Death. You're going to need this to rule efficiently, or so she said." She pushed it across the bed to where he'd sat down, stunned. "Open it."

"My mother gave this to you?

"Yes, that's what I said. She was in some sort of Sending form. But it was her; she called you Torrigan. Why aren't you opening it?"

He paused, staring at the sack as if in shock.

"Well, I, it's, um, sort of astonishing to have my mother acknowledge my kingship, and all the way from Death. Not something I was expecting, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. But I'm dying of curiosity here. Please open it?"

Sighing, he pulled the bag closer to him, untying the drawstring as he did. Then, slowly, with trepidation, Touchstone opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the bed. Out fell a small, leather bound book, a rather small looking gold scepter encrusted in rubies, and an innocuous looking wooden box. They sat there for a moment, just staring at everything, taking it all in. Touchstone reached out and ran his hand over the scepter for a moment, then reached for the book. It was locked.

But scrolling across the leather came a sort of disclaimer, written in deep black ink and a large, swirling hand. It read: "Only royal hands may touch me/ and none in the court can see;/ the contents that lie in this book are private to the Queen. /" Suddenly the small silver lock slid open and the book fell open to the first page. Touchstone began to read the words written there aloud.

"'June 5th of the year 1703'; this is my mother's diary! I can't read this!"

"She wouldn't have given it to you unless there was a purpose. Flip through it, maybe there are tips on how to rule the kingdom," Sabriel suggested, not wanting him to give up. While he flipped the pages, glancing through the diary and muttering under his breath, she investigated the box.

It was a long rectangle, not very wide or tall, and with a simple silver latch. Sabriel pulled the latch up and opened the box to find it lined with thick blue velvet and overflowing with jewels.

"Oh my!" she gasped, dropping the box to the bed. "These are exquisite!"

Touchstone placed the diary down and began to paw through the jewelry, sifting the diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones and metals around. He pulled out a long silver chain, from which dangled a large, teardrop shaped sapphire, set in delicate silver to match the chain. He held it in his hand for a moment, cradling the jewel carefully in his palm.

"My mother wore this to her wedding, and the night she met my father." He was silent a moment. "It matches your eyes."

He looked up at her as he said it, and she could detect a deep sadness in him at the memory of his mother, and the father he never met. Their gazes locked upon each other, and neither could look away, so powerful was the moment. She would never know who had broken the spell first, but within moments everything was swept from the bed and Sabriel lay beneath Touchstone. There was a fierce look in his eye, one she had seen only once before, when the hunters had chased them in this very city only months ago. But now the look was not of madness, of abandon yes, but of a different kind.

Sabriel could scarcely breathe as he pulled her bandolier off and added it to the floor with her sword. Her armour slid off of her body, and soon she lay there clothed in nothing but her shift. She tried to remember to blush, but Touchstone was too close, it was too real, more real than anything else in the world. He kissed her once, softly, on the lips. He kissed her again, harder and more passionately. Pulling away, her grinned at her wildly. Her heart caught in her throat as he began to undress, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Touchstone lay down on the bed next to her, stroking her cheeks, the curves of her body hidden under her shift. She moaned softly as her body roused under his ministrations.

"Touchstone. Touchstone please…" Sabriel whispered. She wanted this, just as badly as he did. Just, not tonight, not yet.

"Not yet. Please," she murmured, her gaze imploring. She felt him sigh and wrap his arms around her.

"Alright. I'll save your ravishing for another time love," Touchstone said, pulling her tight to him and pulling the bed sheets over their bodies.

Sabriel moaned softly as she remembered snuggling close to him and falling asleep with her head on his chest, lulled into slumber by the beat of his heart. She stretched again, deciding that it was time she got out of bed.

A/N: I know, it took me ages to get this chapter up, and you are all allowed to eat me if you wish. I could blame it on school, but my muse seemed to disappear for a long time, so I just couldn't find it in me to write. I had this chapter half finished for the longest time, but now it is finished, and you have read it! Yay!

On a story note- do you, as the readers, think that there should be more action, or a serious conflict with "dissenters" after things go well for a while? Because they are going to, well, why am I telling you? (lol) Oh! And, in a chapter or story time timeline, when do you think Sabriel and Touchstone should get married? Any input is welcome!


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